


Brunch

by Tiptapricot



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth being a good grandad, Batfamily, Brunch, Family being Family, Fluff, Gen, Good Sibling Times, One Shot, tired mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiptapricot/pseuds/Tiptapricot
Summary: Alfred makes the family brunch after a long night of patrol.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 175





	Brunch

It’s one of those late mornings when the manor is quiet. Light filters through the drapes, filling the house with a kind of soft, hazy, slowness.

Slow. That’s a good way to describe it.

There’s no rush for the bathroom, no pushing or shoving, no children sliding down banisters or fighting loudly over cereal. 

The manor is simply quiet and warm.

Alfred wakes up first, as he always does, making himself a cup of tea before he gets to work. There’s the usual tidying, the sweeping and dusting and straightening of picture frames, but soon he opens the grandfather clock and walks down the damp stone steps.

He picks up the belts and gloves strewn about the floor of the cave, washes them, mends the holes and cuts, and puts them back in their cases. It’s been so many years now he should expect the blood. It doesn’t phase him as much as it used to, but he still grimaces at the particularly large patch staining Bruce’s cape and armor. He’ll have to talk to him about it later.

He replaces the tools and gadgets, smoke bombs, batarangs, knockout gas. It’s become a calming task, something he can do without thinking too much. The Batmobile also needs a good shine. There’s a deep dent in the hood and one of the tires is popped clean off, a glob of melted rubber clinging to the hubcaps.

When the clock strikes ten Alfred sets his things aside and heads back upstairs. He pulls on an apron, clicks the stove on, and in minutes the kitchen is filled with the smell of toast and jam and bacon.

One by one the family members drift down the stairs, each one in varying states of exhaustion.

Barbara is first, rolling in looking fresh and well rested. She gratefully accepts a cup of coffee with a soft  _ “Thanks Al”  _ before settling down at the kitchen island and opening her computer. Juggling tasks between the GCPD and the Cave is no easy feat, but somehow Barbara manages to find the time. The two of them work in a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, enjoying each other’s company as Alfred lifts waffle ingredients down from the shelves.

Steph walks in with a bounce in her step, wrapped in a ridiculously fluffy bathrobe and smelling faintly of grapefruit shampoo. She bustles around, humming along to nothing in particular and taking it upon herself to help Alfred with the waffle batter. At some point she sneaks chocolate chips into the mix, laughing when he sighs and tries to grab the bag, only to trip and scatter chocolates over the tiles. They hurry to clean them up before the pets get any ideas.

Dick has always been an early riser thanks to his time in the circus. On normal days he’ll be one of the very first up, using the extra time to work out or read a book. Today, however, he enters the kitchen in sweatpants and a hoodie, a large bruise staining his cheek. He mumbles a good morning and pours himself a cup of coffee, settling at the table and proceeding to stare off into space.

Cass is next, announcing herself with a loud yawn as she stretches in the doorway. She’s still wearing her pajamas, but she’s brushed her hair out and seems to be mostly awake, the threads of drowsiness quickly disappearing as she beelines for the sweets cupboard. Alfred sits her down with some whole wheat toast and a fruit salad after her third Rice Krispie Treat.

Damian comes in soon after, Titus following at his heels. He pours himself some milk and sits down at the table, nursing the glass as he sways drowsily, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Steph pushes a plate of waffles under his nose and he grunts in appreciation, then in annoyance when she ruffles his hair.

Jason stumbles in after half an hour with spectacular bed head and a squint. He doesn’t even say good morning, just grabs a box of wheat thins from the counter and collapses in one of the chairs around the table, grumbling as he eats straight from the bag. Dick elbows him harshly in the back when he starts choking on cracker dust. Alfred gives him a cup of water after that.

Tim and Duke arrive only ten minutes apart from each other, both looking equally sluggish. Tim’s hair is tousled and he has a red pillow mark pressed against his cheek, a general air of tired confusion following him around the room. Alfred loads up a plate and sits him down next to Jason, patting him lightly on the shoulder when he misses his mouth with the fork.

Duke walks in wrapped in a comforter and limping. He curls up face down against the kitchen island, murmuring a thank you into the marble when Alfred sets down a plate of food. He stays like that for a few minutes, and it’s only when he startles upright after Barbara taps his shoulder that Alfred realizes he had fallen asleep again.

Bruce is, unsurprisingly, the last to wake up. He shuffles in at a quarter to noon, dressed in a baggy T-shirt, boxers, and a pair of dark grey slippers. Alfred nudges him towards the table, careful to avoid the patch of raw skin he can see pressing against his shirt. Bruce sits down and leans back against the chair, eyes immediately drooping closed. Alfred smiles fondly and gently rouses him, setting a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him.

Brunch is quiet, everyone occupied with their own morning thoughts. Alfred passes around the ice packs and ibuprofen and watches as the kids sigh and groan as they reveal bumps and cuts from last night’s patrol.

“What on Earth happened?” He asks, watching as Dick rolls up his shirt to sooth a nasty looking burn.

”God… there was so much. Feels like every rogue in Gotham tried to make trouble.” Jason says, rubbing his eyes.

“Well I for one am glad you all pulled through.” Alfred smiles and pats Jason’s shoulder. “We haven’t had a New Year’s Day brunch with the whole family in years.”

There’s a pause, every pair of eyes turning to look at Alfred.

“It’s New Year’s?” Barbara asks, the others looking just as confused. Alfred nods.

“It’s 2020?!” Steph yells, hands slamming against the table.

“Yes… oh for god’s sake don’t tell me you all forgot?”

There’s another pause as the room exchanges glances. In the next moment everything explodes with conversation, people rushing to the cupboards and pulling out all manor of treats and decorations. Alfred smiles in disbelief, allowing himself to be showered in makeshift newspaper confetti. Tim spreads out the chocolate stash and Duke and Jason start rushing for the garage to grab the fireworks and sparklers.

It’s one of those afternoons when Wayne Manor is loud, warm, and happy, and Alfred wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
